Under Construction
by chocaholic
Summary: Rory. Tristan. Tristan's family. Tristan's ex. A wedding.
1. Default Chapter

Once again, Nat gets like 99 of the credit for this (dude, I get the 1 'cause I'm just special). She practically WROTE this entire chapter AND then she checked it for spelling and grammar mistakes. AND she's still talking to me after all my "Ok, what should happen next? And after that? What should he say?" I'm so co-dependant. Thanks Nat kisses

And also this is most likely a temp title, just so you don't get confused if there's a chapter two.

Enjoy.

* * *

"So what if I was a bastard in high school! You're a bitch now! I grew out of it, but you're growing into it!"

Another shirt was grabbed off a metal hanger and shoved angrily into the leather suitcase sitting on the bed.

"You're growing OUT of it? Please! You are and always will BE a bastard! It's in your genes!"

The shirt was yanked from the suitcase and folded before being shoved back in.

" You are so fucking pretentious you can't even see beyond anyone but yourself! Take a look in the mirror, you're not freaking perfect!"

This time it was a pair of jeans that fell victim to the harsh treatment.

"I know I'm not perfect! And I've accepted it, but you... you keep trying to live up to," wild exaggerated flailing of hands "something and you don't even know what it is! What are you trying to prove?"

Once more the garment was grabbed out and folded before being thrown back in with its counterparts.

In a resigned voice she continued "You can't keep doing this Tristan. I don't understand why you do."

Momentarily, it seemed like the anger had fled from his system, but she should have known better, with one sweep of his arm he knocked the entire suitcase to the carpeted floor sending clothing sailing out and landing in crumpled disarray. He continued his assault, kicking his feet into it until it lay against the wall, one side of the expensive piece of luggage caved in.

Rory jumped back, not used to such displays of rage from her seemingly stable soon to be husband. Where did this come from?

Tristan turned from the ruined suitcase toward the dresser, lowering his head in defeat before the mirror. He stood there silent, breathing hard.

She took a step closer, hoping to calm him before he did anything stupid. Opening her mouth to speak she was disgusted to find that her voice, meant to come across as strong and in control came out soft and whispered, "Tristan? I-"

He lifted his head, first staring at her form in the mirror and than at his own reflection. Rory had the sense to step back just as his face contorted into rage and before she could comprehend what was happening, millions of pieces of glass lay shattered on the floor and Tristan's hand was covered in blood. He stared down, dumbfounded by his own actions as Rory wordlessly left the room to retrieve a first aid kit.

She gently led him over to the bed, wincing at the bloody mess. Tiny shards of glass glittered at her and she held back the urge to throw up and instead set about getting them out as gently as possible.

"Ow."

She smiled slightly at his whimpered objections but said nothing. Tristan tried desperately to regulate his breathing and concentrate on anything but the pain. He settled for losing his uninjured hand in her long curtain of silky brown hair, comforting himself as she worked methodically on making him better. His self-pity and anger slowly ebbed away and gave way to shame and guilt.

"I'm sorry."

Rory didn't stop her work, but he felt the bare hint of a nod.

"It's just-... I don't think it's justifiable. The way I acted. But I am sorry."

Finishing the job on his hand, she finally turned to face him. "I know you are Tristan. But I- I can't help noticing that these arguments are becoming more and more frequent. And I can't even remember what started this one. Maybe," she looked down "maybe it's a sign." The words were rushed and quiet but Tristan heard them as if they were being screamed repeatedly in his ears.

Standing up, Rory packed away the first aid and began her way to the bathroom. It took Tristan less than a second to catch up with her.

"What do you mean a sign?"

She refused to meet his gaze, settling for a stray sock lying at the foot of the bed. "We fight all the time. We can't be together for more than a half hour without arguing. And tonight..."

"That's like our thing, Ror. Other couples do the 'cupcake, shnookums' thing, we do the 'bastard, bitch' thing. It's actually quite kinky if you think about it." His voice trailed off with a suggestive tone, a ready smirk gracing his face.

Rory shook her head, "No Tristan. It's 'our thing' when we argue about who's the better James Bond. It's completely different when it's...this" she gestured to around the room, taking in the clothing and glass littering the floot.

He stepped closer, one arm going around her waist pulling her into him while his other lost itself in her hair. "Babe, we're going away to stay with my parents. For a week. That's enough to make anyone crazy. Lucky for me, I've got you to keep me in line."

"I didn't keep you in line, Tristan. I just stopped the blood."

"Well then lucky for me I've got you to keep me bandaged and out of hospital." He felt her chuckle at that and let out a sigh of relief. "I really am sorry. But we are NOT breaking up over this. And that's final."

Rory pushed him away, looking indignant "I'm sorry, you think you have ANY say over this? If I wanted to break up, we'd break up. I don't need your permission and the fact that you think I do is not only offensive, it's laughable and-" she stopped abruptly, realising he was deliberately riling her up.

"See? If we didn't fight there would be only one other way to get such a passionate response from you." A naughty grin appeared on his face and Rory suddenly found herself lying naked on their bed.

* * *

"Brad is Vanilla. Josh is..." a contemplative silence, "Josh is Triple Fudge Choc."

"In the way that Brad's bland?"

"In the way that, comparatively, Vanilla is very normal, missionary sex."

A gasp, "And Triple Fudge?"

"Triple Fudge Choc would have to be tie them up and fuck them from behind until they can't walk then fuck them again and again."

Another pause of great deliberation, "I'd go with Josh."

"Yeah."

Rory glanced away, embarrassed to have overheard the conversation. The two women in front of her continued giggling and exchanging looks, discussing the merits of different positions and trading tips.

She always hated the line for a toilet in the plane.

* * *

"Tristan."

No response.

"Tristan." A little louder.

Still nothing.

"Tristan!" A harsh whisper and an elbow jabbed in the ribs did the trick.

Tristan awoke immediately, startled out of the dream he was having. The very, very, very good dream he was having. He briefly wondered if he could talk Rory into joining the Mile High Club, but dismissed the thought. For the moment at least.

"What? Are we landing?"

"Not for another four hours. I need to ask you something."

He yawned and stretched out in the luxurious first class seat before turning his face toward hers. "Ask away. But first, how big are the bathrooms on this plane?"

"They're pretty large as far as plane- wait...why?" Rory knew him well enough to realise that he was up to some- "I am not having sex with you on the plane, Tristan!" She glanced around, checking no one had heard her, luckily the plane lights had been turned off in favour of sleeping and they were doing a wonderful job.

"Hey, I was just wondering..." Noticing he was about to fall asleep, Rory leaned over and poked his chest, assuring he would stay awake for the duration of the conversation.

"Am I vanilla?"

"Hmmm?"

"Sit up. This is serious."

Hearing the urgency in her voice, Tristan knew immediately what it was about. She needed to be reassured that she was the most beautiful woman in his world - no, in THE world. A task he had mastered quite easily seeing as he honestly believed that. Complying with her request, he sat up and donned his Serious Face.

"What's up, Mar?"

He could not have said anything more wrong.

Rory gasped sharply and turned away from him, quickly situating the head phones on her ears and pretending he didn't exist.

Tristan sat, momentarily stunned. What had just happened? This was supposed to be cake. He'd say a few kind words, tease her a bit, she'd roll her eyes and sit back, sufficiently satisfied. If he played his cards right, he might even get a kiss out of the whole thing. Where had he gone wrong?

Where had she gone wrong?

While Tristan was pondering his dilemma, Rory was having trouble with her own.

She was vanilla. She was definitely vanilla. At least compared to The Ex. It was certain. Tristan was a Double Fudge Choc Espresso Mocha with sprinkles and cream. At least he was for her.

Her mind wandered to last night's argument. It always came down to one thing. Always came back to The Ex. Rory had met her on too many occasions for her liking. Exactly what she had expected of the Tristan Dugrey Type, Nicole was a leggy (leggy, leggy, LEGGY) blonde (blonde, blonde, BLONDE). Her chemically straightened hair always styled with such precision Rory thought the hairstylists must have glued it together with crazy glue. Her clothes always form-fitting always toeing - yet never crossing, the thin line from sexy elegance to skanky ho-iness. Despite her bleached hair and fake tan, Rory found it hard to comprehend how she always managed to look so natural.

It was easy to see Tristan's initial attraction to the blonde. Hell, the entire Dugrey family was attracted to her. She was the pure-bred heiress to a crucial alliance of his father's business. She was smart, beautiful and Tristan's perfect match in every which way. In their eyes Rory - no matter how well connected - was the heathen that had seduced their boy and led him away from a life of riches and luxury to a life of, well he still had the riches and the luxury, but his wife wasn't going to be blonde. Or tanned. The worst thing about Rory was that she wasn't Nicole Belling.

"Ror? Baby, what's wrong?"

Thinking it better to talk this out rather than sulk, she slipped the headphones off and turned back to her fiancée.

"It's Nicole."

Tristan barely controlled the urge to roll his eyes. "What about her?"

"She'll be there, Tristan." Was he being purposely slow?

"Yes, yes she will. She IS, after all, Danielle's best friend. And the maid of honour." He gently reminded.

"I know, but...your mother has probably already planned to keep me busy or lock me in a cellar in the middle of the night. Nicole will enter your room and you'll think it's me and then I'll happen to conveniently walk in on you two and think the worst-"

"You always think the worst of me, Gilmore." Was that a hint of bitterness she detected in his voice? "And besides, now you know if you ever walk in on me and her, it isn't my fault."

Rory stared at him, hurt by his callousness. Didn't he understand this was serious? She picked up her book and got back to reading.

Tristan sat silently for moments. She had no right to do this. Granted his mother would jump at such an opportunity as what Rory had just described, but she really should think more of him at this point. They were getting married, and that wasn't going to happen if there wasn't any trust. And Tristan knew she trusted him and would always give him the benefit of the doubt, no matter what. Which was why he couldn't understand the problem. It wasn't as Nicole was LIVING with them. The longer he sat, the angrier he got. Finally, being able to stand it no longer, he leaned forward and snapped her book shut, letting it drop to the floor with a heavy thud.

He pulled her to face him, whispering angrily "'It's not my fault. I have no control over Danielle and Richard's actions - I can't stop them from getting married, nor do I have any control over Nicole's actions. Pull your head out of your ass Rory, this isn't a grand conspiracy on my parents behalf for them to get me to dump you and marry Nicole!"

Rory pulled her chin out of his grip before facing him again. "Every time Tristan! Every single time we meet your parents and she's even within a hundred mile radius they find as many reasons as they can for you to spend time alone with her! It might not be a 'conspiracy'" she spat, "but it's more than coincidence. This isn't just one of those things where it'll stop as soon as we get married. That won't be the end and you know it. And I would much rather call it off now instead of having to get a di- instead of during the marriage. It would save us both a hell of a lot of heartbreak and humiliation."

She watched his face carefully for any clues as to what he was thinking. There was a scowl- that pretty much gave it away. Tristan however, always full of surprises, responded by grabbing her hand, checking up and down both aisles and pulling her into the toilet with him.

They walked out ten minutes later, still pissed at each other, dishevelled and thoroughly satisfied.

* * *

Care to review? )


	2. Chapter Two

Betcha didn't see _this_ coming, huh? An update, I mean. You were just amiably strolling down the street when I ran up from behind, hit you with a baseball bat, yelling all sorts of things. That's how surprised you are. Right? I'm right, aren't I. Good.

I'm a pretty crappy person, this has been written for all eternity now, but I was all sorts of lazy and meh about it. I'm still very meh, but have taken advantage of this unexpected streak of energy nonetheless.

Nat beta'd this. In return, one day, I won't pike on her. That's pike, not puke.

* * *

She was a duck. A fricken' huge whale of a duck. Waddle over to the coffee you can't have, waddle back to the couch you can't get up from. Oh look, the dog pooped on the floor. Better clean it. Oh that's right, you can't! Can't walk properly and _certainly_ can't bend way the hell over. And should probably stop thinking profanity, not a good example.

_Where the hell is Tristan? _

Walk-waddle back up the stairs, a century later reaching the top landing. Realize that life probably isn't going according to plan when reaching the top of the stairs is considered a victory. Waddle over to the bookshelf in the bedroom, find thesaurus and find new word for waddle. Toddle; sway; shuffle; wobble. Well that's not very dignified. Although nothing about this situation is.

Wob- Shuffle over to the closet and look in the mirror. Jesus, stop looking now. Awful frizzy hair, Rudolph nose, over-sized Madonna t-shirt with unidentifiable food-like stain down the front (suspected remnants from the Great Peanut Butter Revolution of last week), wrinkled track pants seemingly unearthed with the dinosaurs. Pre-historic clothes, very attractive. Not to mention the blown up stomach and million added pounds. Being pregnant sure did suck.

Was that the door? Were those footsteps? Tristan's back! Perhaps he bought food and also-...mmmm...fooood.

Oh, it is him! It is! Happy day, everything is as it should be. Big smile now.

What? Why does he have that look on his face? What has he done wrong? _Gasp!_ Is that resentment and disgust? Well, that is just _not _on. He's leaving? Where! _Why_? For the love of god, why! Who's that behind the door- sweet mercy.

Nicole. Stupid slim skank. Homewrecker.

No, no...Don't cry. Show no weakness. Being a single mother is alright, Lorelai did it.

Oh, don't bother with the comfort buddy, there's nothing you can do!

"Rory..."

_Go to hell._

"Rory, baby-"

_How dare he!_

"Wake up... Gilmore!"

_Huh?_

**XXX**

Rory blinked open her eyes, coming face to chest with a sight she had come to associate with waking up. She smiled and nuzzled the warm skin, breathing in the comforting Tristan-y smell of soap and bed. The images swimming in her mind moments before quickly faded as she deduced that it was a nightmare.

She wasn't pregnant, they didn't live in a house, they didn't have a dog and she most certainly did not own any Madonna t-shirts.

Tristan pulled her closer, dreading having to get up. He wondered briefly if perhaps they should have forgone staying at the Dugrey Estate (the one in Ireland, not to be confused with the myriad of other estates his family owned) in favor of one of those quaint little hotel/bed and breakfasts that seemed to randomly pop-up by the side of the road on the way from the airport.

"We have to get up." His voice was morning soft – husky and low, Rory's favourite. Tristan's entire demeanor changed in the morning. He was all charming and sweet and affectionate, damn any hour past ten o'clock. She yawned into his chest, shaking her head.

"Why so early?"

"Dugrey family breakfast. It's a 'big day and we all need to be up bright and early to save as much time as possible.'" He quoted his mother, although his voice was borderline mocking.

Rory made her way up Tristan's chest, depositing slight kisses at strategic locations until she reached his neck, "Sure," she began, nipping at the skin, "or we could stay here. Conserve our energy."

"Staying here," his breath hitched as she began working on a particularly sensitive spot, "will do nothing to conserve our energy."

Rory grinned, knowing full well what effect she was having on his way too easily turned on self. "Yes, but we'll get out of bed happy. And if I have to face your mother and father _and_ the ex, I need a breakfast of champions. Not eggs"

Deciding to take control, Tristan rolled her onto her back responded in kind to her ministrations. "They've got waffles, pancakes & coffee. That rich, expensive Kenyan coffee that you have been known to bowl people over to get to." He paused, kissing the corner of her lips, "All I've got is this." He grinded his hipshard against her own.

"Kenyan coffee?" Tristan nodded and pushed her further into the mattress "Right, well it will have to wait."

His smirk quickly turned into a frown as there was a rapid knock on the door.

Before either could speak, it was hurled open and a fresh whirlwind of blonde, legs and tight jeans waltzed in.

"Why don't you just come on in Nicole." Rory ground out, her eyes hardening at the sight of the other woman.

She was completely ignored, as was to be expected from such royalty as Nicole. "Tris, your mother has demanded to see you downstairs in no later than five minutes." Her pink lips parted in a sweet smile, her eyes raking up and down his bare back appreciatively. "You've been working out, I see."

Had the woman no shame?

Rory, in turn, yanked the sheets higher up his back, covering them both. The Skank turned her attention to Rory, the sweetness in her tone taking on a more disparaging quality, "You look like you could use some more sleep Lorelei darling. You could probably get away with not turning up until lunch if you so choose, everyone would understand, Renee told me you looked awful last night when you arrived. Those bags are just unsightly!"

Tristan turned to face his fiancée, an apologetic expression gracing his features. He leaned down, pressing his lips to hers in a light kiss. "I think she looks beautiful."

"Five minutes." The chirpy words echoed across the room as Nicole flitted out, conveniently forgetting to close the door. Speaking of which, Rory briefly wondered why the door had been open in the first place. She was sure Tristan had locked it last night, when-

"Sorry."

Rory nodded, sighing and resigning herself to the fact that as long as they would be staying here, she and Tristan would get no privacy and she would get no respect.

**XXX**

"Tristan, finally dear. You really need to be more prompt." Renee Dugrey pecked her son on the cheek as he walked into the large dining room, glancing in brief distaste at the girl attached to his hand before acknowledging her, "Lorelei. You're looking... slightly more well rested then last night, I'm glad."

"Good morning, Renee." Rory knew full well that Tristan's mother detested ever having made the offer of allowing Rory to call her by her first name. It was so disrespectful. Especially coming from someone from Hicksville, and illegitimate too! Besides, it could be confused for some sort of peace offering, and she really couldn't have that. Rory did however take comfort in knowing that Renee, as anally retentive as she was, detested tardiness. And this morning's particular tardiness was due to a particularly wonderful fuck (after the door had been locked. Again.) A fact that she was sure would result in an aneurysm for the society hostess if stated, and as such took all of Rory's constraint to keep her mouth shut.

"Good morning, mother. Where is everyone?"

"You two are late, the bridal party has all but gone to fuss over Danielle and Richard has taken your brother and the rest of the boys out to get their tuxedo's fitted. Luckily," Her face brightened considerably with the thought of being the bearer of such wonderful news, "Nicole has so kindly offered to take you to the tailor. It's on her way to the church - she's taken it upon herself to see that the decorations are going ahead without any mistakes. Such a lovely girl, isn't she."

Tristan looked away, squeezing Rory's hand slightly, "Yeah, it's nice of her."

On cue, the blonde appeared from the far end of the room. She had shed her casual attire for an elegant black dress (a dress that Harper's had described as "casually elegant, for a day at the races or a day in the office.") Rory knew of no one else who would dress as such to oversee a bunch of roses being placed in a church.

"Tristan," she began, her voice pleasant and melodic. "Shall we go? Lorelei, I'm sure you can find a way to amuse yourself until dinner. Perhaps a thousand words on the breath-taking view from your room? God knows that newspaper prints anything you write."

Rory smiled, deciding that letting Nicole get the better of her was beneath her.

Lorelai had taught her better.

"Well no, I think that seeing as there must be so much to do, why don't I go to the church and help you?"

Nicole opened her mouth to protest but was cut off by Tristan, "Now that's a great idea. Then we can meet for lunch after the fitting." The invitation was extended to Rory, but the blonde had already agreed.

**XXX**

"No, no, no, no, no! I've told you over and over that the flowers are to go down the

sides of the _aisle_, not the back of the church. People will _not _see them there, you stupid man!"

No one even turned or batted an eye at the latest barrage of insults from the immaculately painted mouth. She had been yelling orders since the moment she stepped into the church, and all they could hope for was the ground opening beneath her and swallowing her whole. To think, such behavior in the house of god.

Sneaking down from the stairs, where Nicole had had her making sure the area was cleared for the photographer to get good shots from above, Rory sat toward the end of the church and prayed she would not get noticed.

So far, she had been commanded to a list of menial tasks, all of which she had done willingly and efficiently- as Rory Gilmore was prone to do. They also gave her a chance to get as far from Nicole as possible.

She sat at the far end of the pews observing as a torrent of abuse was directed at yet another of the workers. No, that was the priest. What fault could she possibly have found in the priest of all people? Was he, like, the wrong religion or something?

How could Tristan stand her? How did he get through dating her without slitting his wrists? Then again, the skank was always much, much nicer when Tristan was around. What she wouldn't give for him to see her like this.

Rory sat back in the pew, silently counting her blessings and thinking of all the wonderful things that made her life as fantastic as it was. It was all she could do to keep herself from hauling off and knocking Nicole on her bony tanned ass. She grinned as she thought of the wonderful things Tristan had done to her last night.

"Not even I'm perverted enough to think those sort of thoughts in a church." He whispered into her ear from the row behind.

"No, you're perverted enough to actually do them."

Momentary silence overcame the pair as their minds flashed back to the wedding of a friend a few months back. He was amazed that she had willingly entered this church, sitting as close as she was to the confessionals.

Turning her head slightly, Rory glanced in the direction of his gaze. He wasn't sure how she managed to blanch _and_ blush, but there it was.

"Tristan!" He leaned forward, burying his face in her shoulder to smother his laughter. Unfortunately, his presence always managed to alert Nicole's inner Tristan Radar and she was standing before them within moments.

"Tris, you're here!" She flashed a wide smile, "Lunch?"

**

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Well, I'm sure this is going somewhere. It has to be. It might even be going there so fast, I'll update in less than- holy crap! A year! _That's_ when I started this? I am truly, truly sorry.

Despite that, review please.


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